Chapter 17: The Affairs of a Mortal World (3)
Lin Yiyang didn’t straighten up—he was adjusting to her height.
He tilted his head slightly, catching the faint, sweet scent of fruit perfume on her chin and neck. He was exhausted. The train ride alone had taken nearly four hours, and when factoring in the waiting time for trains, buses, and the subway, the one-way trip had stretched to six or seven hours.
Twelve to thirteen hours spent traveling back and forth every week—that was almost enough time to fly straight back to China.
When his eyes closed, his hearing sharpened.
He could hear the people in the pool hall still discussing his match with Meng Xiaodong. Some had even taken an interest, asking the temporary referee about the rules of Snooker, eager to try a game themselves.
The owner dug out the playlist Lin Yiyang had once copied for him and played a song— The Years of Friendship .
Lin Yiyang belonged to the last generation of boys influenced by Young and Dangerous , just catching the tail end of its impact. Back when he was working part-time, he had privately wanted to listen to the soundtrack, so he had compiled all the movie’s theme songs for the owner.
Listening to the music, he slipped the lighter from his right hand into his pants pocket.
Amid the melody,
someone asked: That private room Lin booked—since no one’s using it now, can we take it?
The owner replied: He made it clear—no one gets to use it except his girlfriend.
Yin Guo felt his chin nearly resting on her shoulder.
“Can I hug you?” he murmured.
…
Her heart softened at the question, but she still teased, “No.”
Her voice was barely audible.
He caught the tone in her words and chuckled, tilting his head to meet her eyes.
If a gaze could burn, Lin Yiyang had just done it.
Behind them, two young men, chatting and laughing, rounded the corner and headed toward the pool hall.
Since Lin Yiyang and Yin Guo were leaning against the left side of the entrance, the two deliberately sidestepped to avoid them. Unfortunately, the doorway wasn’t wide, and the two tall, broad-shouldered guys inevitably brushed past. Yin Guo felt the back of her shoe get nudged and politely took half a step forward—only to end up pressed against him.
Lin Yiyang smirked. “Said no, yet you’re leaning into me?”
Despite his words, his right hand remained obediently still.
A breeze brushed against her face and hair, cool and refreshing.
“It’s too cramped here,” Yin Guo quickly withdrew her hand.
She turned toward the food cart. “How about… a hot dog?” After staring at the owner for what felt like an eternity, she figured she should at least support his business.
Her palm was damp with sweat—his, or hers, she couldn’t tell.
Seeing the girl’s flustered expression, Lin Yiyang straightened up and called for the owner’s son, asking the kid to fetch his jacket. The boy promptly brought it out, as if he had been waiting behind the door just for this errand.
“Let’s go to Koreatown,” he said to Yin Guo.
This time, they didn’t take the subway—he had arranged for a car.
But as luck would have it, when the car passed through a street in Manhattan, they ran into a massive protest, and the road was completely gridlocked.
The driver asked Lin Yiyang if they wanted to detour or walk the rest of the way.
Lin Yiyang paid the fare, and they stepped out of the taxi. Police officers lined both sides of the street, some holding coils of white rope, others armed with batons, keeping watch over the scene. Yin Guo had only ever encountered daytime protests abroad, but now, faced with a sea of people marching under the cover of night, waving signs and chanting, she couldn’t help but feel uneasy.
“Last time I was here, I ran into two protests—against police shootings of Black civilians,” Yin Guo whispered. “What’s this one about?”Lin Yiyang wasn't too concerned. "It happens often, with different purposes each time."
Some were fine, like the visually appealing ones on National Day. Others were troublesome—he'd witnessed one in San Francisco when he first arrived, also in winter, which turned into violent incidents of brawls and store vandalism after nightfall.
Although Manhattan had a higher safety factor, it was already nighttime, and he didn't want Yin Guo to stay here for long.
With people crowding on both sides, Lin Yiyang guided her in front of him, holding her arms gently as they moved forward slowly. In this position, he could shield her from the sides and behind, and his height allowed him to see the path ahead clearly.
This street was usually crowded, but now it was even more congested.
Yin Guo walked on the crosswalk, moving against the flow of protesters holding signs on the main road. The scene ahead was becoming chaotic, with people retreating to avoid the commotion. Lin Yiyang glanced toward the next intersection, guessing there must have been a physical altercation.
His voice sounded near her right ear. "Turn right. Let's take another route."
Before she could turn, the crowds on both sides began to surge. Yin Guo gasped as someone stepped on her foot, and then her left shoulder was roughly bumped.
Lin Yiyang immediately pulled her into his arms and dragged her to the entrance of a restaurant.
He was smart—he didn’t choose to run along the street but instead found a less crowded corner, pushing Yin Guo against the wall with her back to the road, using his own body to shield her from the passersby.
Yin Guo’s back pressed against the grimy exterior wall, her nose brushing against his shirt pocket.
She was so tense her throat and ears ached.
Through the fabric, he could feel the warmth of her breath against his chest.
Behind him, people kept crashing into him—fast and hard. A dull pain shot through Lin Yiyang’s calf, either from a kick or something hitting him. His expression didn’t change as he turned his head to assess the situation on the main road, judging whether it would escalate. If it did, they couldn’t stay here.
Fortunately, it was just a small-scale disturbance.
The frightened pedestrians had all scattered, while newcomers, unaware of what had happened, continued walking as if nothing was wrong. "It's fine," he said to the person in his arms. "There’s a fight ahead, nothing major. Those running were just panicking."
He released her.
Yin Guo’s vision cleared. Still shaken, she turned to look—the protest march was still moving forward.
"Let’s... just go here?" She pointed to a modest restaurant across the narrow street. "This one."
Lin Yiyang nodded. He considered holding her as they crossed but thought better of it, so he gripped her right arm instead, keeping her close as they angled across the street and pushed open the glass door.
It was a local, inexpensive diner filled with regulars.
The owner behind the counter saw Lin Yiyang hold up two fingers to indicate their party size, then grabbed two menus and led them to a four-seat booth against the wall.
The menus were placed on the table, and another staff member came to take their order.
Yin Guo’s heart was still racing, her mind not fully present. Lin Yiyang randomly pointed at a couple of items. "Chicken wings? Fries?"
"Yeah, okay."
"Pasta?" He remembered she had once specifically treated him to it, so she probably didn’t dislike it.
"Sure."
"What shape? The pasta shape?"Yin Guo stared at him blankly, her mind still adrift. Under the bright, yellowish lights of the noisy little diner, at this very moment, after being pressed against the wall with her face against his chest for protection, after being pulled closely by him through a narrow alley lined with trash while he held her upper right arm—
Seeing his face and those eyes made her thoughts wander, her cheeks flush, and she belatedly realized she had completely fallen for him.
“Not many options here. There’s the long, thin kind, flat ones, macaroni, spirals, and lasagna.”
“Macaroni,” she chose the one that sounded nice.
After Lin Yiyang ordered the macaroni for her, Yin Guo suddenly realized: Wait, no—I hate macaroni the most.
This meal was the worst she’d had since arriving for the competition.
Yet it was her first proper date with Lin Yiyang. The pasta arrived, its appearance far from appealing, but the portion was three times larger than usual. The chicken wings and fries were the same—three or four times the normal serving. At least the quantity was generous.
No wonder Lin Yiyang had only ordered these three items, along with drinks.
Yin Guo struggled through a third of it before finally putting down her fork and taking a big gulp of her drink. It was awful.
Lin Yiyang watched her the entire time and only spoke when she set her glass down. “You like it that much?”
He had finished all the chicken wings—not because they were delicious, but because he didn’t want to waste food. So he had already assessed the restaurant’s quality.
“Mhm,” she couldn’t bring herself to praise it without betraying her conscience, so she feigned enthusiasm and pointed at her glass. “This lemon tea is good.”
The only passable item in the entire meal.
His eyes were so beautiful, his nose too, his lips, his jawline and face shape—just perfect…
He was tall, and even with messy hair, he looked good, let alone now, clean-shaven and well-groomed. How had she never noticed how attractive he was before? No wonder Meng Xiaotian always called him “handsome guy.”
Yin Guo bit her straw, shifting her gaze from his eyes to the peeling patch of wall beside him, staring intently.
“I thought it was just okay. Not really my taste,” he said. “We’ll grab something better when we get back.”
“You can cook?” Her eyes flicked back to him.
“Not really. Simple stuff is fine,” he replied, picking up the bill to pay.
When they got home, Wu Wei had already laid out a table full of late-night snacks and shot Lin Yiyang a glare before shoving the receipt at him. After realizing the chicken wings weren’t great, Lin Yiyang had messaged Wu Wei to prepare a second meal.
But Yin Guo was still stuffed from the macaroni and couldn’t eat much, leaving most of it for her cousin and Wu Wei to devour.
Back at home, under the watchful eyes of the other two, they didn’t have much interaction. Midway through the meal, Yin Guo’s coach called, and she went to her room to report her training progress. By the time she came out, Wu Wei was already cleaning up, and Lin Yiyang happened to be on a call with his professor—another missed opportunity. Before bed, they exchanged a couple of vague words, then went to shower and retreat to their rooms.
Only alone in her room did she finally get a chance to talk to him properly.
Xiao Guo: Are you leaving tomorrow?
Lin: Yeah.
Xiao Guo: Morning or afternoon?
Lin: Same as last week.
Good, at least he wouldn’t disappear while she was asleep.
Xiao Guo: Goodnight. See you tomorrow.
Lin: Night.After saying goodnight and turning off their phones, sleep still eluded them.
At three in the morning, after multiple failed attempts to summon the Sandman, Yin Guo gave up entirely. She sat up and scrolled through her phone, checking the club’s main group chat and the smaller Nine-ball group.
It was afternoon back in China, and everyone was chatting enthusiastically during training breaks, discussing various competitions.
The biggest upcoming event in Nine-ball was this Open. In the group, everyone was confirming their arrival times in New York.
Over the next three days, everyone would be arriving. The younger players had matches next week, while hers were scheduled for the week after, in early April—a week-long competition before returning home.
Knowing it was Yin Guo’s sleeping hours, no one directly messaged her except for Coach Chen, who had sent her a WeChat message two hours earlier.
Coach Chen: I’ll be at the airport tomorrow afternoon if there are no delays.
Coach Chen: Once I arrive, you’ll move to the hotel. The room’s already arranged. We’ll need to adjust your training plan for the competition. We’ll discuss in detail when we meet.
Move there?
Right, she was supposed to move.
When she first rented this apartment, she had planned for this. Although the lease ran until the end of April, that was mainly to give Wu Wei an easier time explaining to the landlord—short-term rentals were tricky.
So, at the latest after this weekend, she’d have to move out by next week.
She lifted her gaze to the door of her room, lost in thought.
A sliver of light seeped in from under the door. Who was in the living room? She tentatively sent a WeChat message.
Xiao Guo: Still awake?
No reply. Probably not him, then.
She turned off the bedside lamp and had just laid her head on the pillow when her phone vibrated once on the nightstand. She immediately sat up again and checked it.
Lin: Just saw this.
Xiao Guo: So you’re outside the door?
Lin: Yeah.
Lin: In the living room. Coming out?
Yin Guo tossed her phone aside, threw on a sweatshirt, and tiptoed to the door. Her right hand gripped the brass doorknob, pressing it downward. As soon as the door cracked open, she felt it being pushed from the other side.
A tall figure stepped inside and quietly pulled the door shut behind him, leaving it slightly ajar to avoid the sound of the lock clicking.
“Your brother,” he whispered.
Soon, the sound of shuffling slippers passed by Yin Guo’s door, growing closer before fading again.
“Why’s the light still on?” Meng Xiaotian mumbled, half-asleep, before closing the door behind him.
Lin Yiyang silently shut the door as well.
She hadn’t turned on the lamp, and the curtains were drawn, leaving the room in near-total darkness.
Standing before him in the pitch-black room, Yin Guo even wondered if he could hear her heartbeat. Probably not—theoretically, no way… Lin Yiyang was dressed in a full set of white athletic wear, likely changed into for sleeping. She hadn’t seen him wearing it earlier.
Both of them waited, listening for Meng Xiaotian to return to his room so they could speak without being overheard.
After a drawn-out three to five minutes, the footsteps circled back and finally disappeared.
Yin Guo exhaled softly. “Still not asleep?”
“Looking for medicine.” He hadn’t noticed while showering, but halfway through sleep, he felt uncomfortable and got up to check. The spot where he’d been hit while dodging the chaotic crowd earlier had lost a patch of skin.
“Are you sick?” Her heart tightened.
Lin Yiyang raised his right hand to show her the ointment, gauze, and a stack of band-aids he was holding. “Just a small wound.”Lin Yiyang pointed to the small sofa by the window: "Is it okay if I sit there?"
"Come in quickly." She was about to turn on the main light.
Lin Yiyang grabbed her hand and gestured toward the bedside lamp instead.
Following his cue, she switched on the small lamp.
Lin Yiyang had already settled into the tiny soft sofa, placing the items in his hand on the floor. His pant legs were rolled up, revealing the injured area. This was his first time entering this room, even though Wu Wei had rented the place for quite a while.
The small sofa had been bought by Yin Guo when she moved in—cheap and barely qualifying as a "sofa," more like a large cushion. While it was fine for her to sit on, Lin Yiyang, being a man, looked slightly comical perched on the dark red cushion.
Yin Guo crouched beside him, examining the wound under the light. It wasn’t deep but was a long gash, as if something sharp had scraped through the fabric. Frowning, she asked softly, "How did this happen?"
"Got scraped on the train," he lied casually.
"And you only noticed now?" That was careless—from afternoon till now.
"Didn’t hurt, so I didn’t pay attention."
Yin Guo winced just looking at it.
He had already applied some ointment before she found him, taking care of it in the bathroom.
Lin Yiyang figured the wound wasn’t deep enough to warrant a bandage—it would just make wearing pants troublesome. He planned to stick a few adhesive bandages on it, mainly to avoid irritating it during his trip tomorrow. Once back in Washington, he could remove them, and it would heal in a day or two. So he peeled off a few bandages, holding them under the light, debating whether to place them horizontally.
"Let me help," Yin Guo offered softly, still crouching beside him.
When he didn’t respond, she glanced up curiously, studying his face in the dim glow of the bedside lamp.
Lin Yiyang was staring back at her—because of those words.
Let me help.
He hadn’t heard that phrase since he was a child.
No one had ever had the chance to say it to him, and he’d never needed it.
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